Enlightenment
by Princess Sassafras
Summary: Oneshot. Semi companion piece to Them. I was truly moved writing this piece. I hope you all get something from it. [4x3]


"Enlightenment"

By: Princess Sassafras

Notes: I have no notes. Read it and be moved, as I was moved when writing it. 4+3.

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I've been reading about Buddhist enlightenment. I know, strange that a man who isMuslim by birth and Christian by choice would want to study such things. But I've never been afraid of questions; without questions there are never any answers.

I still call God "Allah." I could call him Father or Maker or Master just as well. He is not confined to names.

There is an American theory of self-actualization that I have found in psychology books, and it seems to be a more scientific version of Enlightenment in which a man or woman desires to become a "fully realized person." This, in my opinion, is unachievable in the lifetime of one man. Buddha was said to have reached enlightenment, and some have claimed they have reached it after his time. Some others believe that there is more than one form of enlightenment, and that it can happen many times in one lifetime in many different forms.

If there were just the one enlightenment, what else would we as humans aspire to? What else is left—what purpose?

I believe, like the neo-spiritualists, that there are many forms of enlightenments, some greater than others. They are not just realizations—no—they are much more. Me realizing that I was good at playing the violin was not enlightenment. It was a simple and pleasurable discovery. The enlightenment came when I first lost myself in a piece of music—Trowa's equivalent is his Runner's High—and was carried away by something unnamable. I couldn't even remember thinking about the notes. I remember coming to the end and finally remembering to breathe. Me realizing that I was gay was not enlightenment either, though it was very much a 'duh!' moment. The enlightenment came when I finally looked into the eyes of a man and found that palpitation—not mere physical longing or lofty infatuation, but 'oh there you are!'— that mysterious thing that all the poets write about but can never fully describe.

I remember the first time I saw Trowa Barton. He emerged from the belly of Heavyarms like a panther slinking from the cover of brush…but not aggressively. It was almost as if he wished to look this possible enemy in the eye before deciding whether to go for the kill or give himself up proudly. His eyes peered sharp and keen from beneath his hair but his palms were raised. I had never seen anyone behave this way. It gave me a strange thrill.

"Put your hands down!" I found myself shouting across the distance between his suit and mine. "I was the one to come out first and surrender, remember?"

He did not lower his hands immediately, only turned his head to better study my body language. I kept my shoulders relaxed and smiled, hoping he would decide I wasn't a threat any longer.

The psychologist Carl Jung spoke of the collective soul. We're all pieces of the same whole floating about. Crazy, huh? You better believe it's true. You will one day when you look into the eyes of another living, breathing human being and see a piece of yourself. How can I explain? I can't.

I'm very lucky, I suppose. Over eighty percent of the population is heterosexual, and some of them haven't even found what I have found. Some women are waiting for that gaze that will swallow them up across a crowded room, and I've already found it. I'd die for it. Because once you've found it you won't give it up for anything.

I remember realizing that I would die for the one I love, maybe the biggest enlightenment of my life. It sounds so simple, doesn't it? It should be a given…like in all the romantic movies and novels. Of course we would die for love! But it's not simple. It's not—you can never truly know until you've stood there at the brink. I saw him bleeding on the ground, his long pale face covered in sticky dirt. Red spittle stretched in a long string from his lips to the dust, and his eyes looked filmed over in white. In one moment I prayed the life out of my body—stretched it out and tried to give it to the man on the ground. _Put it in him! Give it to him! Give it back! Take it from me!_

Oh, my Trowa. I went somewhere then. I went where you were: into the blackness. I remember really waking…it was to the sound of you gasping for air and choking up blood all over the helicopter's stretcher. Duo was piloting and throwing concerned glances in the rearview whenever he dared, while trying to get us the fuck out of range and back to our Gundams. I heard bullets from below.

I swear you smiled at me then, as we came back to the light. All at once your white hand clenched mine so powerfully I felt my bonescrushing together, and I had never been so glad. I wept. I kissed your red mouth, and never mind the bleeding. Just to let you know. You do know.

Enlightenment. You were and are the biggest enlightenment of my life. Every time I see you it's 'oh, there you are!' There you are. You stand in my doorway, real and alive, a piece of me. And I realize something I can never fully explain to another living soul. I love you. Oh, I love you!

It's Allah's gift. It must be. Why else would the poets and the bards have sung about it for centuries, why else would long-ago knights have died for it, and why would I die for it now? It's the greatest thing. It makes us weak and strong. I challenge one man to name one thing in Heaven or earth that is a greater gift, a greater mystery. I defy you.

This is why we are here: to find the pieces of each other. To say, "Oh there you are!" He has put us here to find each other. This is my prayer for you: search on.

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